Worn Me Down
by Klozcore
Summary: Nothing is sacred. My life is a runaway train heading towards oblivion." [One-shot.]


A close friend once told me that I should try finding my happy place. What an ambiguous thought. I was perfectly happy with my life and the notion that one place could be happier than another was preposterous in my eyes.

I inquired further, "What do you mean?"

She replied very simply that it's a place that, in your head, you can go and become perfectly serene. It's a place that's just yours, a place in which you can imagine yourself if you need a few moments of clarity. Close your eyes for yet a few seconds, where do you end up? It's in this place where you can sit, think, calm yourself, and become tuned in with your inner spirit. It's in this so-called happy place where a lot of soul-searching can be accomplished and the reason is simple; in this place, you can peer unobtrusively into your psyche. Everything is clear to you in this happy place because it is a place where you can gaze straight through the tough exterior on which you've worked so hard to build. You are alone with yourself. This is a place for your own personal introspection. It is here where you can find out who you really are and come to terms with your strengths and weaknesses.

I smiled at her and shook my head. "What's your happy place?" I asked in jest.

She replied that her happy place is something very personal. She said that it's a place that only she can go and she giggled as she suggested a few to me. She said I can go into the middle of a wheat field and achieve this serenity just as easily as I could go to the middle of a strip club if I wished.

I quickly laughed, "Nah, I couldn't imagine myself in the middle of a wheat field. I've never even seen a real wheat field."

From there, we continued walking and chatting. I was still curious and decided to ask, "Where else could you find your happy place?"

She replied that it can truly be anywhere. You could be in the middle of the woods, forging along a mountain trail on a sticky, humid day. It could be in the middle of a desert, with nobody around and your thoughts all to yourself. It could be in the bedroom of your house; it could be in a cemetery. Truly, anywhere can be your happy place. A happy place is simply where you feel the most comfortable.

I shook my head a bit and cocked it to the side. "I never knew you were into all that yoga and Buddhism type stuff," I smirked at her.

"It's not Buddhism, Craig," she replied, "it's simply getting in touch with yourself. Someday, you'll need it more than anything in the world."

I shrugged it off and, after that conversation, she never mentioned anything of the sort again. It was strange. The topic came out of nowhere. I mean, that's not something you usually discuss when you're only sixteen years old. It's not something you really need to think about. To tell you the truth, that was probably the last time I thought about it for four years. However, those words uttered by Emma Nelson once again rang true during my latest epiphany. I needed that happy place to maintain my sanity.

On that fateful day, I closed my eyes through the tears and all I could see was visions of flames, death, destruction. Hate was personified with shades of red, blood splattered across the milky bile of flesh-eating pain that had enveloped my soul. Nothing was sacred. My life was a runaway train heading towards oblivion. Demons crawled across my field of vision, my concentration was flawed and hate flooded my brain with useless emotions. I was a plane crashing into the water, a priest renouncing God. I was the human embodiment of an experiment gone horribly wrong and I had no one to blame but myself. My eyes snapped open. I was shocked at the utter horror of the cataclysmic scene I just witnessed and I stood trembling, wishing to wake up from this nightmare of mental ambiguity. However, I knew that was not possible. I knew this was real and I knew I had to deal with the consequences. I closed my eyes again and delved deeper, hoping to find something beyond the pits of human worthlessness I have inherited.

When I closed my eyes the second time, the fires had been extinguished. The ugly, black scars of my anguish remained very obviously as I sat on the dead roots of what used to be an apple tree, the tree itself was barren of any fruit or leaves. I listened to my thoughts. No longer were haughty laughs present in my mind, and it was at that moment that I remembered those words Emma said.

"Find yourself," they beckoned. I listened attentively and stopped looking up at the sky. I looked around me and I sat alone in the middle of a huge field. Endlessly in every direction, trees were covered with snow and, surrounding me, snowcapped mountains dominated the view as I realized where I was. I was at home, but it wasn't where I lived. It seemed so familiar and yet so strange. My mind was in my happy place and I began to think more deeply than I ever had before. I peered into my soul and realized where I should be, and I realized that I was so far from it.

This is where I began to realize what I needed to do with my life. This is the place of my epiphanies and this is where I go when I need to get away from it all. It travels with me wherever I go because it exists so vividly. And yet, it's not just one place. It resembles everywhere I've ever been and yet, it doesn't exist. One day, I'll go there and never come back. One day, I'll be happy, and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do to change that.


End file.
